


To Err Is Human

by corvile



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unrequited, if u squint, one-sided ezileo is best ezileo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4919179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvile/pseuds/corvile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Leonardo," says Ezio suddenly, in the carefully measured voice of one who is perfectly aware that they are very drunk. "Leonardo, scientists experiment, with theories and such, yes?" </p><p>"Something like that," says Leonardo.</p><p>Ezio looks at him, his steady gaze all but unaffected by his inebriation. "I have a theory of my own."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Err Is Human

Ezio tips through the door, a bottle of grappa liquor in each hand, and shoulders off his weapons belt. It lands with a heavy _thump_ , and Leonardo looks up from his desk. "I'd ask how the mission went, but it seems apparent it was not so good," he remarks.

"Mmh," Ezio grunts, setting one bottle of the brandy on the desk and one-handedly uncorking the other to take a swig. "Bastard got away down one of his bolt holes. Thought I had them all covered, but..." he trails off with a shrug.

"What of your charge?" Leonardo asks. "The one you were to protect?" He hands Ezio a pair of gently-used wine glasses. Ezio shakes his head, upends the bottle again with a grimace and doesn't respond; his silence is answer enough.

"Ah," says Leonardo. He picks up a glass and tries to grab the bottle off Ezio; Ezio swats his hand and pushes the other bottle towards him.

"That is your one. Leave mine alone," he says. Though Ezio holds his liquor better than most, he already has a faint pinkness tinting high on his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose; grappa isn't considered a sophisticated drink, but it's potent. Leonardo shrugs and uncorks the other bottle, pouring himself a small amount as Ezio slumps into a nearby chair.

He sips it slowly, saying nothing; he knows Ezio well enough to know there's no use trying to talk with him at this moment, unless he wants to talk. Unlike Leonardo, who is almost painfully open with his emotions, Ezio shutters himself when distressed, retreating within and pushing others away. But Leonardo can understand the quiet request accompanying the bottle of alcohol offered to him: a request for some solidarity; for some comfort in nearness of presence, not in sharing words.

Leonardo has finished his first glass and is pouring himself a second when Ezio takes a deep breath. He looks up from the bottle.

"The one I was to protect," he starts, then clears his throat. "She was so young. I only looked away for a moment - there was a guard looking around; I had to move away - and when I looked back she was gone. The one I was after, he must have been waiting for me to drop my guard, and..." The hand not holding the bottle clenches into a fist. "It was - is my fault. She is dead, now, because of me. I was asked to protect her, and it is by my hand she has died." His words run together, like water dripped onto ink, but the grief in his voice is clear.

Leonardo closes his eyes briefly. "It was not your fault that he knew, Ezio. I know you; you did all you could."

Ezio makes a frustrated gesture. "But what if I could have done something more? What if I could have protected her, and killed the damn-"

"But you couldn't," Leonardo says, "because you are only human. It is in our nature to be incomplete; to make mistakes - all we can do is learn from them."

Ezio falls silent again, withdrawing from the room. His bottle is over half empty; he takes another drink and the level drops further.

Leonardo takes another sip of his own drink, and turns to his desk to continue his work from earlier. When he looks back, Ezio has shut his eyes and slumped further in his chair; asleep. His brow is creased, still.

A while later, Leonardo hears Ezio stir. He's unusually loud; rendered clumsy by the alcohol still in his body. He draws his chair up behind Leonardo, watching him write. It had taken Ezio a while to learn how to read Leonardo's mirror-image writing fluently, but he mastered it soon enough. Leonardo admires his tenacity; he always has.

"What is your mind thinking of, Leonardo?" He taps Leonardo's temple. Ezio's propensity for physical contact has always been a thorn in Leonardo's side - though not in the way one might assume. It was simply that, as the man was so affectionate, it was easy to mistake his contact for an advance - one Leonardo knows is unforthcoming, but the hope still cannot be squashed. Alcohol only makes Ezio more affectionate.

Leonardo ignores Ezio's closeness and puts down his pencil. "A simple equation, for one of my creations. Boring work, I'm afraid," he smiles, closing his book. "How are you?"

It's clear he's asking not about physical wellbeing, but emotional. Ezio shrugs, nonchalance obvious enough to be forced. "I understand what you said, about making mistakes, but it is just... difficult, when your mistakes cost innocents their lives."

He reaches behind himself, to where he left the bottle on the floor, and takes another sip. The silence is heavy, before he says, "I want to forget that I make mistakes. I want to do something different, so I can forget that I make mistakes. You are always trying new things, Leonardo. I envy you." He leans closer, sagging.

Leonardo stands up; leans against the wall to be further from Ezio. He wants to have a clear mind to think about the words; he can't focus on anything when Ezio is so close. He, too, is only human.

"To do what I do is to embrace mistakes, Ezio. It's the only way I can progress."

"Your mistakes do not cost people their lives, usually," Ezio counters.

"A fair point," Leonardo says.

"Perhaps I should do what you do," Ezio says. He sounds like he's only half-joking. "But I am no good with science; I only know banking and killing." Quiet claims the room again, broken only by the occasional sound of Ezio tipping back his head to drink.

"Leonardo," says Ezio suddenly, in the carefully measured voice of one who is perfectly aware that they are very drunk. "Leonardo, scientists experiment, with theories and such, yes?" He rises from his chair and takes a step forwards toward where Leonardo is slouched against the wall. He takes another, moving into Leonardo's space. Leonardo doesn't step away. When Ezio sways where he stands, he reaches out to grip his arm, holding him steady.

"Something like that," he says. 

Ezio looks at him, his steady gaze all but unaffected by his inebriation. "I have... a theory of my own." He steps even closer, the front of his shirt almost brushing Leonardo's. Leonardo knows what's happening here - the sudden desperation in Ezio's eyes for something, anything, to think about, other than his own fallibility; his drunkenness removing his inhibitions and qualms - but he can't make himself tell Ezio to stop. Ezio had taken his cloak off some time ago, and without the heavy hood he looks oddly vulnerable. "Will you test my theory with me, Leonardo?"

When Leonardo says, "Yes," so quietly it's barely audible, Ezio leans forwards and angles his head to fit his jaw along Leonardo's, pressing his mouth to the other's. His eyelashes brush Leonardo's cheek when he flutters his eyes shut; he puts his hand on Leonardo's arm in a mirror of Leonardo's hold on his own.

And Leonardo _knows_ it doesn't mean anything - that it's a mistake; that it's a freak occurrence; that it's not the real thing. But it feels real; the slide of lips and the gasps of breath and the scrape of stubble along jawlines; and between the push-pull of bodies he cradles the moment against his chest.

Ezio pulls back with a quiet exhalation, saying nothing. He looks almost disappointed; he won't meet Leonardo's eyes,

"Did your theory prove true?" asks Leonardo, almost desperately trying to mask the emotion in his tone.

"Yes," says Ezio, quietly.

When no elaboration is forthcoming, Leonardo asks, "What was your theory?"

Ezio gives an odd little smile; almost bitter. "It's your theory, really. That humans make mistakes." He finally meets Leonardo's gaze; he looks almost sorrowful.

He picks up his cloak from the chair and walks carefully up the stairs to the room Leonardo lets him use, leaving Leonardo still leaning by the wall, his heart pulled into tiny pieces. He reaches for his bottle of grappa and shuts his eyes as he takes a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> [this is grappa](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grappa); i chose this instead of wine because given the alcohol content of wine in the 15th/16th century, ezio would have had to drink like 8 bottles of wine to get really drunk. grappa was apparently a fairly cheap and easy-to-come-by way of getting drunk, back then.
> 
>  
> 
> i hope to create a sequel to this, though i wouldn't hold my breath. also i spent half an hour looking up 15th century italian alcohol and now my search history makes me look like an educated drunk ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
